Antique
by A for Anarchy
Summary: Number 32 in the one-word prompt series. Sansa has received a rather unwelcome wedding gift: an antique vase. It's so ugly that she and Arya (in self-defense) have decided to get rid of it. All that they have to do now is decide how. Rated M for language and content.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _A Song of Ice and Fire_. It rests in the clutches of GRRM.

**Author's Note: **This is number 32 in my one-word prompt series. And it's going to be rather short. I decided to break it up into chapters, as it makes for easier transitions. Hmm, I guess I should make a content warning…swearing, sex, plotting, and gratuitous sisterly banter. Yeah, that should do it.

* * *

**Chapter One: A problem presents itself.**

"What is it?"

"It's a vase."

"You sound fucking pretentious. I know what it is, but _why _is it?"

"It's an _antique_. You know, valuable, highly prized."

"You mean, it was a gift."

She sighed heavily, "Yes."

"And now you have no idea what to do with something so godsdamned ugly."

"Right."

"Give me a few days to think of something."

"You're a lifesaver, no, a _sanity_ saver, Arya."

"I know. Just try to avoid looking at it for now; you don't want to strain your eyes. I'd say that you owe me for this, but honestly, you're doing me a favor, Sansa. I think I might have retinal scarring."

"I don't care if I end up owing you, so long as you find a way to dispose of this thing in a way that doesn't come back on me negatively. It was a gift after all, and I'm trying to make a good impression."

"I think whoever gave you_ that_ must not like you already, so why worry about impressions now?"

Sansa sniffed, "It's the principle of the thing."

"We're tossing 'principles' right out the window by planning the untimely demise of this antique piece of offal."

"Yes, well…certain principles must be allowed to bend in order to serve a higher cause."

"And our 'higher cause' in this case is?"

"You said it yourself: the preservation of my sanity."

"You're absolutely right; you can't afford to lose what little you have left," Arya nodded sagely, as if she were imparting a great piece of wisdom.

"Getting married is not insanity."

"It is when you're marrying Petyr Baelish."

"…your point may have a sliver of rationality, but love never did claim to make people sane. Quite the opposite, actually."

"Love does not excuse _that_ abomination."

"Well, you'd best get cracking, then."

"It will be my absolute pleasure."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: A blind date and an art show.**

The night she met her now-fiancé had started out normal enough, well, as normal as a blind date orchestrated by Margaery Tyrell could.

Her date took her to a nice restaurant, made polite conversation over their meal, and picked up the cheque. Sansa remembered feeling distinctly underwhelmed, but optimistic that he could improve with time.

The evening seemed to take a turn for the better when he said that he had planned an after-dinner surprise. "It's a modern art show; you'll_ love_ it."

_Okay, _she thought_, it's okay. He hasn't known you long enough to know that I think of modern art as a cop-out. He's trying to be memorable. _

Sansa swore to the gods, though, that if she saw another sculpture made out of old tires and tin cans called "Study of Female Nude," she would light the building on fire and dance on its ashes. But she, being well-versed in first date manners, hid her reservations and dwindling hopes behind a polite smile and a small nod. "You'll show me your favorite pieces, I hope?"

Maybe if he could explain with enthusiasm, and something even remotely related to sanity, the reasons for his admiration, she might be able to siphon some of it off for herself.

Unfortunately, they had been in the gallery for over half an hour, and her nominal and polite interest was fading into skepticism and derision. She had tried, honestly, she had; but a thick dab of yellow paint on a white canvas was hardly noteworthy, nor was it art. It seemed that her date had finally picked up on her feelings, and he excused himself, mumbling about refreshments and breaths of fresh air.

Sansa had the distinct impression that he was going to chat up the blonde that had been cooing in delight over some sculpture, entitled oh-so-creatively "Nude Walking." As it had missed some of her criteria required for arson, she had let it pass unremarked. Her date had felt otherwise. "Look at the lines, Sansa, aren't they gorgeous? Who's the sculptor? I'll bet that it's that Stone boy. He's been making waves. I'm almost tempted to commission a piece from him; it's sure to be worth something in the future…"

In that moment, she decided that he had a wight's chance in dragon fire of getting a second date out of her. Margaery would be getting an earful for this–this travesty of an evening!

A voice at her ear startled her out of the recently made memory, "I know it's ghastly, sweetling, but try to put on a pretty face before the hostess ejects you for lack of appreciation."

Sansa was unable to hold back her tart reply, "Not before I've found a way to improve this sorry sight with a tree or some flowers. Then the 'artist' could call it a landscape instead of 'Dawn over Dorne.'"

"Hmm, while that is an excellent idea, I must ask you to refrain from doing anything rash until we've introduced ourselves."

"And after?"

"Why, after, sweetling, I shall provide the brushes and paint."

She laughed and turned, enjoying the way his eyes widened as he took her in. "I'm Sansa, Sansa Stark," she said, holding out her hand.

"Petyr Baelish, at your service," he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss between her knuckles.

Sansa could feel her breath seize in her throat. "P-pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Baelish."

"Oh no, sweetling, the pleasure is entirely mine. And please, call me 'Petyr.'"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Arya's first scheme.**

"Okay, we've got a plan."

"Who is this "we," Arya? I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"Don't blow up on me yet, Mt. Sansa, wait until you hear how awesome the plan is."

"I'm listening."

"Jaqen and I were talking about it—"

"Wait, you brought poor Jaqen into this?"

"Do not feel sorry for that lecher, Sansa, he brought it on himself when he laughed at my drawings."

"You can't call your boyfriend a lecher."

"I can if he is one."

Sansa heaved a resigned sigh, some fights she was bound to lose. "So, you were making pictures?"

"Yeah, just some sketches of your flat," Arya replied defensively.

"Why would you need to do that?"

"For the plan! Keep up, Sansa."

"But, you haven't even told me what the plan is!"

"Stop fucking interrupting me and I will!"

"Fine!"

"Okay! Where was I?"

"Jaqen and pictures."

"Right, so, he says they look like shit and I punched him and told him that he would have to help me plan as punishment, or no sex."

"Details I can live without, Arya."

"Don't be such a fucking prude. Anyway, we got to thinking. You said that it was an antique, right? So it's probably worth some money."

"I guess so."

"Then all we have to do is stage a fake burglary!"

"Wait, what? How does that make sense?!"

"If it's worth money, then it's worth stealing. Jaqen and I stage a break-in, steal the vase, and poof! Problem solved."

"No, Arya, not "problem solved.""

"Why the fuck not?"

"What happens after break-ins, Arya? Police reports, that is what happens. I can't make a false report over a false burglary. One, that's illegal, two, I would have to tell Petyr, and you have no idea what he's like. If he thinks that I'm in danger, he'll hunt down the people responsible, and then we'd have to tell him about the whole godsdamned thing. _And_, we'd still have to deal with the fallout from the false police report regarding the false burglary. So, think again, Arya, and think legal."

Arya gazed at her, eyes wide and slightly apprehensive, "Your fiancé is scary, Sansa."

"In a sweet way, though."

"You're delusional."

"I didn't just try to pitch a plan to 'fake' steal an antique vase."

"Fuck you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Absconding from the gallery.**

Sansa could feel the blood rushing to her face as Petyr lowered her hand and knew that the resulting flush was bright on her cheeks.

She took a moment to study the man before her. He was older, clearly, but the silver hair at his temples hinted that he might be older than she had first supposed, perhaps as old as her mother. Sansa knew that she should be disturbed by his obvious interest in her, maybe even disgusted, but the way he twined his fingers lightly through hers, and the way his eyes lingered on her lips and breasts had her wondering if she'd been remiss in dating only men around her age.

But the tightening of her nipples and the sudden ache in her cunt were telling her that if she stayed with Petyr Baelish, her night could become very interesting indeed.

"You're rather forward for a stranger in a gallery, aren't you, Mr. Baelish?"

A smirk curved his lips up slightly, and he leaned in, lowering his voice so only she could hear his words, "Not at all, Sansa. If I were being forward, I would tell you that although you look stunning in that dress, you would look far better naked with your hair spread across my pillows."

He paused for a moment and brushed his lips against her ear, "But I am not being forward right now, sweetling. Perhaps I will be later, if you call me by my name."

Sansa's breath stuttered past her lips, making her words tumble against each other, "G-go, I've got to go. Um, I mean, I have to find someone. My date! I have to find my date." She turned away, tugging her hand from his as she did, but his fingers tightened, and he reeled her backwards until he had her flush against him.

"Hmm, what's this, sweetling? You've got a fish on the line already? How terribly unfortunate. What's the poor boy's name?"

It was unconscionably rude of her mind to blank so suddenly, and she gave it a firm reprimand, all the while attempting to engage her mouth to move and form words that were recognizably language, "His name? Um, his name is, uh, Horace?"

"Was that a question?"

"N-no. His name is Horace, and he should be back any moment," she finished firmly.

"I haven't got any time to spare, then, do I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I came to this gallery on business, one of my clients asked me to meet him here, but that's all done and the night is still young. And now I've met you."

He said it all so matter-of-factly that Sansa couldn't help but smile at him, "Yes, and we exchanged names and talked about awful art."

"Indeed we did, but then, you tried to leave, to go hunt down that feckless boy of yours. And, sweetling, I just couldn't bear to see you waste another second of your time on him, not when you could be engaged in more…satisfactory pursuits."

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as he breathed across them, and she gasped when his lips touched her skin with a scorching kiss. Sansa felt her whole body go up in flames and marveled at the fact that the people around them couldn't feel the heat. "I-I take it that you have an alternative suggestion to make?"

"Spend the night with me, Sansa Stark; come to bed with me, and I'll make sure you get all the satisfaction you deserve and more."

This was insane. She did not go home with men that she had just met, _older_ men that she had just met! She did not abandon her dates without a word, and she most certainly did not get aroused from just a few words and a kiss! But the longer she stood against him, the more she wanted to give in, to find out, just once, what it was like to be seduced and bedded by a complete stranger.

Never again, she swore to herself, after tonight, never again.

"Let me get my coat."

"Lead the way, sweetling."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The second, and much more legal, scheme.**

"Okay, we've thought up something even better this time, and you'll be pleased to note that it is entirely legal."

"Your addendum does not exactly inspire confidence. Why did I ask you to do this again?"

"Because you want to get rid of the monstrosity, and I'm the only person you know with the desire to cause mayhem and destruction of property?"

There was a heavy sigh, "It's sad that you're so pleased by that."

"You just wish you were as cool as me."

"I am quite happy knowing that I made it out of my adolescence without a juvenile delinquency sheet."

"So did I."

"Only because you look younger than you are."

"I don't think you want me to start taking shots at your age and looks, dear sister. Your ego probably wouldn't survive the experience."

"If you say so."

"Can we get back to my awesome, and totally legal, plan now?"

"Oh, by all means."

"Thank you. Okay, Jaqen and I think you need to get a cat."

"What?! Why in the hells would I get a cat when I'm about to get a husband?"

"I will refrain from pointing out how you've linked 'pets' and 'husbands' to each other and simply elaborate on my plan. Jaqen and I were thinking about getting one for ourselves, but we wanted to do the responsible thing and adopt."

"No wonder the police always let you go. You probably talked the death after running them in verbal circles."

"Stick with me, Sansa. So, we went to a shelter and took a look around, and that's when it hit me. I started asking why some of the cats were given up, and I found the perfect criminal. See for yourself." Arya thrust a photo into Sansa's face.

The cat was black and white, with long hair and a curiously innocent (and slightly vacant) expression. Who in their right mind could have given it up? But still, a pet? Just to get rid of the vase? It seemed a touch too extreme.

"Arya, a pet isn't a tool, it's a _commitment_, and I've already made one of those to Petyr. How would I explain this sudden urge for feline company?"

"You don't have to adopt right away. You can do a trial period. And if the cat manages to assassinate the vase within that window of time, you can take it back and say that it didn't work out."

Gods, that sounded awful. She'd cried for days after Lady was hit by a car, and now the thought of giving up a pet voluntarily…but what if it all worked out?

"All right, let's give this a shot. Introduce me to this cat of yours and we'll see how it goes."

"I knew you'd see it my way. I already got the supplies for you."

"Your confidence is astonishing."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The cat described in this chapter has a real life inspiration in the form of my furry baby. He has a penchant for getting into trouble, and a particular love of knocking things over. He's a menace, but I wouldn't have him any other way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I guess I should warn you, my readers, that this is the chapter in which you will encounter explicit content if you venture forth. But, I take you to be an adventurous sort, so maybe such cautions are unnecessary.

* * *

**Chapter Six: What happened after the gallery.**

Sansa didn't get a good impression of his flat. It's features were blurred as they stumbled their way to the bedroom, tripping over dropped articles of clothing and pushing each other against walls while taking in as much of the other as they could.

She expected this fervor to last once they made it to the bed, expected that neither one of them could bear to calm down and take things slowly, so she was surprised when he took the time to turn on the bedside lamp and throw the covers back. Petyr noticed her raised eyebrow and answered her silent question, "I didn't bring you here to fuck you in the dark like some fumbling boy. I want to _see_ what I do to you."

She was too shocked to speak, and almost embarrassed, but the way he looked at her, and the way his eyes gleamed, let her Sansa know that he meant every word. She suspected that he would take her apart, open her up and examine her, and she would enjoy every second of it.

"I'll just sit here, then." Sansa moved to the bed and eased down onto the sheets, watching Petyr watch her.

"I knew you'd look gorgeous in my bed, sweetling."

"Your self-assuredness reminds me of someone."

"Someone you're fond of, judging by that smile."

"Yes, we're very close."

"Should I be jealous?"

"I'm here with you now."

"Hmm, quite right, and you seem to be rather naked."

"You are as well."

"So I am. Just give me a moment to retrieve the final piece of our lurid tableau." He opened a drawer and fetched out a condom, which he then opened and rolled down his hard cock. The sight of his hands giving his cock a few tugs transfixed Sansa. While he was by no means enormous, he was more generously endowed than her previous partners, and she felt a twinge of concern for the state of her body come morning. The thought of her impending soreness pleased her though; she would have a reminder once this night was over, one that would remain with her for a few days.

Once again, Petyr seemed to be aware of the direction of her thoughts (some of them, anyway). "Don't worry, sweetling, I'll make sure you're ready." And he did.

He laved her tight nipples with his tongue, alternating between long licks and sharp nips until she was squirming beneath him. Only then did he allow her to move his hand between her thighs. He thumbed at her clit, and though it felt good, it wasn't enough.

"Please, Petyr, I need more!" Sansa was past caring about the whine in her voice. All she cared about were Petyr's clever little fingers, and the way they curled slightly as they thrust in and out of her cunt.

"I can feel your tight cunt clenching around my fingers, sweetling; you're close, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

"And you would do anything to come, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, anything!"

"I want you to scream my name when you come. Can you do that for me, sweetling?"

She bit her lip, unable to answer as he increased the pace of his thrusting fingers, but she nodded frantically.

"Good girl. Now, I want you to come, Sansa, and remember, scream my name."

Sansa broke apart around his fingers with an orgasm so strong, her sight and hearing were momentarily dimmed, but later, she recalled screaming his name loud enough for the gods to hear.

"That was perfect, sweetling, thank you. I think you're ready for me now."

Sansa hummed her agreement, still dazed by the force of her orgasm, but she tensed up as she felt his thick cock sliding into her.

"It's all right, sweetling, just let it happen."

His thumb returned to her clit, and her hips opened wider for him. Petyr eased himself in until his hips and his chest were flush with hers, and then he waited. She looked up at him, surprised to see him so close. Again, her thoughts must have flashed across her face because he answered her, "I want to hear you, sweetling. You're very quiet unless I ask you to be loud, and I want to hear every little gasp, sigh, and curse that you make. Besides, this arrangement has other…benefits."

He demonstrated precisely what those benefits were by giving a slow grind of his hips into hers, his pelvis dragging up and down her clit in a delicious way.

"Again."

"What was that, sweetling?"

"Again!"

"With pleasure," he breathed across her lips before covering them with his own as his hips flexed again. The next time, she lifted her hips to meet him and was rewarded with a groan. They quickly established a pattern of slow thrusts and grinds, and Sansa could feel another orgasm mounting. She threaded one hand through his hair while the other dug into his buttocks. She was probably hurting him with her grip, but he didn't seem to mind if the fierce kiss he gave her was any indication of his feelings.

This time, her orgasm came in steady waves, washing over her until she was spent and limp. Petyr followed soon after, tensing up and shuddering against her slightly. He held his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing her and waited for his breathing to even out. When it did, he pulled away from her and quickly disposed of the condom. Sansa watched him quietly, wondering if she could sneak out once he was asleep.

"I know what you're thinking, sweetling," he said suddenly.

"Gods, how do you _do_ that?"

"Practice, oodles of it. And, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather you stay the night."

She was taken aback by his request, so far, this whole thing had followed one-night-stand-protocol, and she had been hoping to avoid the requisite morning walk of shame. "Why? I thought—"

"Yes, I suppose you did, but contrary to what you might think, I am not in the habit of booting my partners out of my bed come the morning, especially when I've enjoyed their company so much. You'll stay the night, and in the morning, we'll talk about what happens next."

He turned off the lamp and pulled the covers back up. As she nestled into her pillow, Sansa couldn't help but think, _there's going to be a 'next_?_'_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Cats are for life, not just for murder.**

Sansa had to admit that the cat had a certain…charm. "What's its name?" she asked the volunteer.

"Hmm, just a sec…according to his paperwork, this little guy's name is BNW."

Her eyes widened in disbelief, "You mean…he's an acronym?"

"Apparently, the previous owners decided to name him based on his color scheme: black 'n' white. They must have shortened it."

And even though she knew what the answer would be, she felt compelled to ask, "What reason did they give for surrendering him to the shelter?"

"Well, he's quite the little mischief maker, always looking for trouble he is, and he has an affinity for knocking things off of high places. They couldn't break him of the habit."

"So, I probably won't be able to either?"

"He's a bit old for retraining now, but positive reinforcement always helps."

"And this will just be for a trial period, right? If things don't work out between us I…I can bring him back?" Gods, she felt like dragon offal for even saying it out loud.

"We understand that you may not be his forever home, so we allow a two week trial period for pet and human to get to know one another, although cats can take a bit longer to settle. Your first week together may be difficult, but try to stick it out."

Sansa looked at the cat in the cage, and he gazed back at her with steady eyes. "You know what, BNW, we might just be perfect for each other, but we'll never know if I don't give this a shot."

She glanced back at the volunteer,"Where do I sign?"

...

The volunteer had not exaggerated when he'd said that BNW would take time to settle. They'd been living together for about a week, and Sansa felt like she was engaged in a series of battles against guerrilla forces.

The cat loved to hide under furniture and swipe at her feet as she passed. Several times, she had almost tripped over him after he darted in front of her. Meal times, though strictly regulated, were standoffish affairs, and the two combatants would eye each other from opposite sides of her small kitchen.

And yet, for all the trouble he caused, the vase remained intact.

She'd given BNW every opportunity to deliver the thing its death blow, but to no avail. So, the vase continued on in its existence, blissfully unaware of the attempts that _should_ have been made on its life. However, this left the problem of the cat.

"That thing is still in one piece? I thought you would be well rid of it by now and that the cat would be back in the shelter!"

"His name is BNW," Sansa said defensively.

"You named the vase? Gods, I was afraid that this might happen. You've finally succumbed to its hypnotic allure and are a slave to its will!"

"Don't be such an idiot. The _cat's_ name is BNW."

"You made him an acronym?"

"His previous owners did. _I_ think it's cute."

"Oh no."

"What?"

"It's too late, isn't it? You're attached."

"No I'm not! I'm just giving it time. He's perfectly capa—"

BNW chose that moment to come barreling into the room at breakneck speed, but he couldn't get a grip on the slippery tile. A brief slide, punctuated by a cabinet, was the result.

Arya raised a critical eyebrow at the whole maneuver. "What was that you were saying Something about 'perfect' and 'capable,' was it?"

"Shut up, I'm not taking him back. We've bonded."

"And who am I to deny the marriage of two like minds?"

Sansa laughed, "You're my favorite bitchy sister."

"I'm your only sister. That goes without saying. Have you told Petyr yet?"

"Fuck."

"Thought not. What _are_ you going to tell him?"

"That it was your idea."

"Well fuck you very much. And what about the vase?"

"I think our hate has been making it stronger. We should give up for now and wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"Probably for the best, but look how smug it is! You should have let me take a bat to it."

"Give me some time and I might."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: The morning after.**

Sansa woke up the following morning to the smell of a cooked breakfast. She took a moment to gather up what things were in the room and set the bed to rights. A niggling thought told her that her dress was probably in the entryway, so it might be wise, if rude, to raid his drawers for a shirt and bottoms.

She and Petyr were roughly the same height (a fact that she had found rather pleasing), and his clothes fit her well enough. Once dressed, she looked into the mirror above his dresser. The woman she saw there seemed a stranger to her. Her hair was tousled with sleep and sex, her cheeks pinked with embarrassment at wearing a virtual (male) stranger's clothing, and a smile curved her lips. Last night had been unexpected, wild and fun, and beyond anything she'd ever experienced. She felt confident in herself and liberated.

Sansa smiled back at her reflection and left the room, following her nose until she reached the kitchen. Petyr had his back to her when she entered, so she quietly cleared her throat. His eyes went wide at the sight of her, but quickly narrowed with unmistakable appreciation and not a small amount of possession.

"I hope you don't mind," her fingers fiddled with the bottom of the shirt, reflecting her sudden shyness, "but I think we left my dress somewhere else. I wasn't very keen on the idea of walking around naked."

He put a spatula down and crossed the kitchen to her, "My loss, sweetling, truly, but the sight of you kitted out in my clothes is doing wonders for my ego."

"Oh…that's good?"

"Very. Now, I hope you're hungry. I know I worked up quite an appetite last night."

"Gods, I'm starving!"

"One hunger at a time, sweetling, and I intend to sate _all_ of yours."

Sansa nearly tripped over her own feet. The man and his words were a bloody hazard to her health!

He settled her at the kitchen island and put a plate in front of her. "I didn't know what you would like, so I made the full King's and hoped for the best."

She would never reveal to him that a full King's, in all its artery-clogging deliciousness, was a particular weakness of hers. Instead, she smiled and tucked in, targeting the fried mushrooms and tomatoes first.

She was working her way through a mouthful of beans and toast when he said suddenly, "I'd like to keep seeing you."

Sansa couldn't help it, she choked. "Sorry, what? Isn't that against protocol or something?"

"Protocol? What are you going on about?"

"You know, the standard operating procedures of the one night stand? I mean, It was nice of you to let me stay the night and feed me breakfast before my walk of shame, but you don't have to lie and pretend that this is more than one night of fantastic sex!"

Petyr gazed at her silently, considering her words, weighing their merit. She could almost see the gears turning in his head. "If you knew me," he began slowly, "you would know that I do not engage in one night affairs. You would know that my interest does not wane after one night in bed, but you do not know me. I'm offering you the chance to change that."

Sansa felt her face go up in flames; that had been incredibly rude of her, but what did he expect her to think? "Look, that was rude of me, but I don't know you from Aegon. I've never done this before, gone home with a stranger. You were going to be the first and last. I didn't expect anything else…"

"I blame myself for not communicating my intentions. I'm usually much more direct. Would you believe me if I said I was distracted by you?"

"I don't know. Were you?"

"Unbelievably so."

She grinned at him, enjoying the way he looked in the light of day. "Well, that's all right, then."

"Even though we've gone at this a bit backwards, would you care to try again?"

"Let's finish breakfast and see what happens."

"Fair enough, sweetling."

* * *

**Author's Note:** One more chapter to go after this, but as I have not written it yet, I cannot guarantee that it will be posted tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed and maybe it will be! Also, there will be a short bonus chapter in which the origin of the vase shall be revealed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: The past catches up to the present.**

Against his will, business had kept him out of the country for a little over two weeks. He was more than ready to be welcomed back by his fiancée, which was why the disappointment of seeing her sister instead was quite crushing. "Oh, it's you."

"I am truly hurt, Petyr, really. I may be the only family member that Sansa has who _doesn't_ want your balls as a trophy, and that's the greeting I get?"

"Please forgive my nonplussed reaction at seeing the wrong sister in my home. Where is she?"

"She stepped out to buy more ca—I mean, she's doing some grocery shopping, and she'll be back any minute. And since you've indicated that you don't want me around right now, I'll just be going. See you later!"

Arya dodged past him and was halfway down the corridor before he could get another word out. Not that he was going to complain; his reunion with Sansa would not be a fit sight for the eyes of a soon to be sister-in-law, and the flowers in his hand would keep for a bit longer.

Petyr jumped a little when he felt a mysterious pressure against his leg. He peered down into curious feline eyes and was greeted by an inquiring, "Mrow?"

…

Sansa met her sister in the lobby as she was exiting the lift. "Arya? I thought we were going to hang out for a bit longer?"

"Yeah, sorry, Sansa. We've had a sudden change in plans. Your man is home, and he's probably met the cat by now. I don't have your…knack with him, so I left."

"Way to throw your sister into oncoming traffic."

"I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

"I'm telling him that _you_ found the cat."

"Never mind, I take it back."

"Figures. It's okay; I have my ways of ensuring his amenability."

"There are things that I don't want to know about your life, and that is one of them."

"You tell me about _everything_ you with Jaqen."

"That's different; I'm trying to pass one my superior knowledge and techniques."

"I don't hear Petyr complaining about my 'techniques.'"

"Of course you don't…where _you_ can hear him."

"Go away, Arya."

"I'll call you tomorrow, don't skimp on the details."

"About the sex?"

"About the cat, stupid."

…..

He met her at the door, already looking harassed and impatient. "What is it doing here and why won't it leave me alone?"

"Just let me put these away and I'll tell you."

He followed her into the kitchen, and Sansa sensed his unasked questions practically buzzing beneath his skin. The bags went on a counter, but before she could unload them, a hand thrust flowers in her face. "Oh, thank you, they're beautiful!"

"Thank me later. I want to know about the infestation."

She couldn't help laughing at his indignation, "He's a cat, not a pest."

"Semantics, sweetling. What are you doing?"

"Looking for a vase."

"What about the one on the table?"

She felt herself grimace, "Right, yeah. I'll just…put some water in it." Even though it was an inanimate object, Sansa would swear that it radiated smugness. Consequently, the flowers went into the vase with more force than necessary, and she a twinge of despair floated across her consciousness. She'd never get rid of it now that it had found a way to fulfill its purpose! With a heavy sigh, she placed the vase back on the table, hating it with all her might.

"The cat, sweetling, you've stalled enough."

"Right, well, you see…it was all Arya's idea!" Inwardly, she winced. She had not meant to give her sister up to Petyr's ire so soon.

"You've given me the name of your accomplice, but no reason behind what I am sure was a very nefarious plan."

Godsdamn it all! She would not, _could not_, tell him about the vase. _That_ story would be even more humiliating in light of its ending, or rather, its lack of one. "I was, well, I was feeling lonely without you. Since we've been together, you've never been away for more than a week. Arya could tell I was unhappy, so she suggested that I try a pet for company."

"How sweet of her," his tone implied that he felt precisely the opposite, "and I take it that this 'pet' is now a non-negotiable part of our lives?"

"Please, Petyr? He's so sweet, you'll love him in no time!"

"I dislike cats on the general principle that they are too much like me, but I suppose I should be grateful that it's not a dog."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She peppered his face with kisses, praising him for his kindness as she did. "You're the absolute best, I adore you, and you'll love him, I just know it!"

He caught her mouth with his, silencing her adoration with a firm kiss. The sudden crash of glass shattering broke them apart. Their heads whipped around in the direction of the noise in time to see BNW racing away from the scene of the crime. Her foe, the vase, lay vanquished on the floor, in too many pieces for the possibility of repair. She stared in shock, but inside she was pumping her fist in victory.

Petyr's voice broke through her celebration, "I'm sorry, sweetling, it seemed important to you. Shall I find you another like it?"

Celebration turned into panic, "No! I mean, of course not. I'd hate for something bad to happen to it as well."

"And you're sure you want to keep the beast?"

"His name is BNW, and yes, we've bonded."

"In that case, you'll be responsible for cleaning up your acronym's mess. I shall lend adult supervision."

Sansa went back to conducting her celebration as she threw away the shards of the vase. All was once again right in her world.

* * *

**Author's Note:** There you have it, folks! The end of this little fic. Now, I know you might be thinking that it was awfully expeditious of BNW to knock the vase over in the final chapter, but there was a quirk in his personality that his previous owners never figured out. Since BNW has a real life counterpart, this quirk is that he only knocks things over if they have water in them. My furry baby is obsessed with getting a drink out of anything with water, and BNW shares this rather annoying trait. Though this is the last chapter, stay tuned for a very short epilogue that reveals the identity of the vase giver!

P.S. Brownie points to whomever catches my references to Lysa and the Hound.


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue: Bonus scene.**

"That one, sir? Are you positive that you want _that _one?"

"Quite sure. Make the necessary arrangements, but make certain that it is sent anonymously."

"Of course, sir."

Petyr hung up the phone with a small smile. The vase was perfectly hideous, and given Sansa's murderous intentions towards modern art, he could not see it surviving in their home for very long. And, given her inventive and destructive plans for said art, he was eager to see how the demise of the vase would come about.

Hopefully, he would be back in time to witness it go.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And there you have it: it was Petyr all along. How many of you saw that coming?

Thank you so much for reading; I hope you've enjoyed it!


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